Memories fall like leaves, skidding across the sidewalk at my feet. Coloring the landscape with painful reminders of my children—the dreams I had for my family, the yearning of what could have been… The falling away from the mother tree.

A healthy leaf slowly dies, becoming brittle, it’s edges crumple, colors fade… though torn from the tree it is never forgotten. Those memories will always be a part of me, of who I am.

The leaf is broken but with the last of its strengthen, it returns to the ground, to nurture the roots, to give birth to new life in another season. That is how mothers endure the most difficult and impossible situations, they are rooted to the memories of their precious children, in the depths of the cold, dark soil–they reach for light.